


Sightless Forever

by FeatheredKit



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Anal Sex, Blind Dipper Pines, Light Angst, M/M, Nipple Play, Possessive Bill Cipher, Tentacles, Triangle Bill Cipher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:03:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6232615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatheredKit/pseuds/FeatheredKit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The small hand snaked its way into Dipper's hair once again, yanking his head upwards, roughly, and the voice began to speak again, this time right in his ear; "I can give you whatever you want, kid. I can make your novel become the greatest bestseller ever. I can make everyone love you once again. I can give you your sight back." It grew darker now, adding, "All you have to do is agree to be mine."<em></em></em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sightless Forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoboticPopSauce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoboticPopSauce/gifts).



> This is for Emmy, one of my favorite writers and just a flat out awesome person in general.

Not a lot could be said about the life of Dipper Pines, simply because there wasn't anything exciting to say in thw first place. He was creative, went to school like everyone else, and spent most of his time locked up in his room like any othhesitation.s weekly schedule was limited to the same thing, school on Monday through Friday and time at home during Saturday and Sunday, only leaving the house to go out to dinner with his family or some other special event. But, other than that, he had a normal life.

Probably the most exciting thing anyone could say was that enjoyed writing, maybe too much for his own good. It was one of his favorite things in the whole world, something he had fun doing since before he could put letters down on paper in legible handwriting.

He wrote in his room, he wrote in class when he finished his schoolwork early, he wrote when he was finished with his homework to the time he went to bed, he wrote while in the waiting room at the ophthalmologist's office. He even sometimes wrote in the bathroom when his business was having trouble coming out.

All he wanted to do was write a book. Not just any book, though, but a novel, a long one that would be approved by the first publisher he sent it to, one that would fly off the shelves of the book store and be made into an amazing movie starring famous actors and actresses. It would be so popular that everyone would demand a sequel, and he would write it, and it would be so much better than the first book.

His book would be the type that brought smiles to even the most depressed people. His book was going to be, as he always told his twin sister, Mabel, when he was very young, _legendary._ And he spent the majority of his childhood with this dream forever locked in his mind, forever sparking, and with everything essay he wrote and every presentation he made for school that dream would only grow bigger. He was on top and nothing could get in the way of the goals he wanted to achieve.

Well, except for his eyesight.

He'd had bad eyesight since he was a baby, having to wear glasses and, soon after, switching to contacts. But, when he was around thirteen, even with wearing these, things were still difficult to see, not to mention that while wearing these things he had massive headaches and felt very lightheaded. His mother one day, deciding that enough was enough, took him back to the ophthalmologist, and with that visit came terrible news and a surprise.

“His vision's only going to get worse." He had said, leaning over the boy and shining a flashlight into one of his eyes. “At this rate he might go blind.”

“Is there any way to fix it?” Dipper's mother had asked in return, casting a nervous glance at her little boy. He only walked over to her and grabbed her hand with his small one, giving it a reassuring squeeze and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. She looked as if she were about to cry, and Dipper hated it when she cried. He hated it more than he hated the ophthalmologist, and that was saying something.

“We can give him surgery." Was the reply, “but it's only guaranteed a sixty percent chance of success. The other forty percent says that it'll do nothing.”

“That's too risky.”

“It's either this or a one hundred percent chance of going blind.”

His mother had signed the consent form for the surgery and, less than a week later, there was the day of the surgery itself. Of course, he had been asleep for the entire thing, and when he'd worked there were bandages covering his eyes and a slight ache in his head.

“Don't worry." came a voice he didn't recognize, and he let out a low sigh. “You'll have those removed soon enough and, when you do, we'll see whether the surgery worked or not.”

It didn't.

When the bandages were finally removed from his eyes days later he blinked, slowly, attempting to adjust to the light and, when he did, everything was just as blurry as it had been before. The surgery was a fail, and when he went home the next day he spent the time in his room crying. He knew his mom was crying, too, in the living room, along with Mabel and his dad.

He really wished it had worked so they didn't have to cry.

Over the next two years he had three more surgeries on his eyes, all of them done in different ways, all of them as successful as the first. And, as had been predicted, Dipper's sight only got worse and worse, until one morning a few weeks after his fifteenth birthday when he couldn't see anything at all.

He was shrouded with darkness.

 _Forever,_ a voice in his head rang.

When he had gone with his mother back to the ophthalmologist that day, he'd said exactly what the Pines family had feared. There was no going back now. This was it. Dipper Pines was now blind, he couldn't see anything, and there was no way that they could fix it.

“So that's it." He had said, more so to himself than his mother, when he was getting into the car to go back home. His mother cried as she was driving the entire way back, and Dipper knew already what she had to say, so she didn't need to say it.

_You'll never get to drive, Dipper._

After that, the first few weeks going blind had been problematic, to say the least. Not only did an aide have to follow him everywhere he went, but no one treated him the same, fellow students nor teachers. They acted as if he was a completely different person, which he probably was now. Dipper Pines had died with his eyesight, and that was that. Nobody knew who this new person, this blind person, was that replaced him, but he most certainly wasn't the friend/student that they had before.

And to think losing touch with his friends and teachers was bad enough, but over time Dipper began to lose touch with his own family as well. Even the strong bond he had with his own sister- sharing everything, hanging out all the time, watching movies- had died. It felt as she she didn't care for him at all.

They barely spoke anymore, only ever really exchanging a few hellos and good nights. Dipper wished to talk to her more but never did, knowing that she too didn't even know who he was.

He spent more and more time alone in his room, never really coming out, not even for food. He lost a lot of weight over some period of time, feeling his own ribcage when he would bring his hands under his shirt. He knew that he must've been under seventy pounds by now, an unhealthy weight, one he didn't really have the strength or the hunger to build up.

Dipper Pines fell into depression.

  


Now here he was, his covers pulled over his head and a box of tissues sitting next to him on his bed. He reached over with one hand and grabbed one of the tissues, blowing his nose before tossing it absently away, beginning to rub at his eye. He couldn't see himself, but he was sure that if someone were to look at him now he would seem like a mess- red, puffy eyes, much too thin, wearing dirtied clothes, smelling terrible, eyes seeming to stare right past you.

 _I'm worthless,_ was what he told himself often, was what he was telling himself right now, in his very moment. He knew he wasn't speaking out loud but, if he was, he would be screaming. _I'm worthless. I'm fucking worthless!_

He was sure nobody wanted to speak to him because they were disappointed. After all, who would want anything to do with _him?_ He was a complete and other mess, not to mention the fact that he was blind now, meaning he couldn't do anything right anymore. He'd been skipping school for...what? Had it been two weeks, now, and he couldn't even look anyone in the eye when speaking to them.

 _Nobody wants me._ He thought, worrying his bottom lip.

He could've sworn that he heard somebody say, _I do._ But it didn't sound like it was coming from anyone he actually wanted to say it.

  


It was odd, how different the world was when he slept.

He could actually see in his dreams, which was odd, but what he saw were only memories from when he actually had sight. Nothing new was there, nothing he hadn't already seen or been through, nothing he wanted to be able to see again.

He wondered what had happened to the loose leaf paper he used to write on. Was it still somewhere in his room, or did someone throw it all away? He'd be angry if someone did, but he could also understand why they would do so. How was he supposed to write if he could no longer see? How could he trust anyone to write for him? If they messed up his book then it wouldn't be as good as he wanted it to be.

 _Huh._ He couldn't even remember what his book was supposed to be about, all he could remember was that it was supposed to be a mystery novel of some sort. It felt like an eternity had passed since he'd last brought pen to paper, listening to the light sound of the words being written down, the smell of the ink.

Too bad he'd never be able to do anything like that ever again.

But what about now? Where was he? He knew he was standing somewhere, and it was cold, much too cold for a day in the middle of September (but that was probably because he was bare foot). Not to mention that this place didn't feel familiar at all.

He was asleep, right? He was sure he was. But he couldn't see right now. And this place...this place was new. It felt empty, like nothing was supposed to be here, a black void that held no purpose. It was just _there._

Like he was.

“Hello?” He called, his voice echoing.

No reply.

Right.

After all, nothing was supposed to be here, right? Or was it a place where people who _were_ nothing went? Was he dead? He was sure that he couldn't have died of hunger, considering that he'd basically been living off of the stash of granola bars under his bed. Sure, he knew his parents and Mabel left him food every day and that it always settled on the dresser next to his bed, but he never ate that. He barely even ate his own granola bars.

It took him a moment to realize that he'd spent the last two weeks starving himself. He shivered.

He would've taken a step forward if it wasn't for something suddenly latching onto his wrist, bringing him into a vice grip. It was cold, it was wet, it was slimy. And, before he could even offer any sort of reaction, it was tugging his arm up, so much so that his one side was beginning to be lifted off the ground. The same thing happened to his other wrist, and now he was hanging with his toes barely brushing the ground.

He opened his mouth to let out a cry, only to have no sound escape, as if he were in space. But space didn't have ground. Where was he? And...and why was it suddenly getting so much colder here?

Trying to pry his wrists away from whatever was holding him up without success, Dipper felt his own heart thumping painfully in his throat, ready to burst, and his lungs seemed to be filled with air and he couldn't breathe now and oh God, he just wanted to get out of here. He didn't even care where he was anymore, this place was bad, bad news, and he had a dark premonition that something terrible was going to happen to him if he stayed any moment longer.

“ **_Stop._ ** ”

He did.

Panting, he tried to locate the source of what had just spoken to him, whipping his head around as if he could actually see, listening closely for some type of sound- breathing, footsteps, anything- that could indicate this. And, when nothing came, he went limp and hung his head low, sweat beginning to beat down his forehead and dripping down off of his chin and landing on his toes.

“I-I don't know where I am." He said.

“I know." was the reply, and it was when this was said that Dipper realized that the voice wasn't just coming from a specific spot. It was coming from all around him, echoing, rattling his brain, sending little shivers up his spine, making him have the urge to cry all over again. But he didn't want to cry, because he'd already done too much of that already. “I brought you here.”

_I brought you here._

“Why?”

For a moment no words were spoken and Dipper was worried that the person had left. He started kicking frantically with his legs, trying to slip out of his grips once again, letting out cries of fear. That was, until another appendage wrapped itself tightly around his mouth, muffling his sounds, and out of instinct he bit into it. Cold liquid seeped into his mouth, making him gag, only causing it to grip tighter.

“I told you to _stop._ ”

There was a soft sound, that of fingers snapping, and suddenly the entire upper half of Dipper's body was suddenly so much colder. He shivered again and lifted his legs to his stomach, only managing to hold them up for a few seconds before they gave out with exhaustion. He really wished that he was more flexible.

“Now are you going to listen to me?”

Dipper nodded without hesitation.

This voice, the one that was speaking to him, it was odd. He'd never heard it before in his life, and it was dark, almost evil. It was neither male nor female, high nor low. No, the only word that could accurately describe the sound of this terrifying voice was _demonic._ It was absolutely demonic, as if it could make buildings crumble and mountains fall.

It was horrible.

“Good boy.”

A small, a _very_ small, hand placed itself on his bare chest, coming to help him realize that he was shirtless, and lightly began to move down, lower, lower, dangerously low, until it met the belt loops of his jeans. It tugged lightly, the voice pressing on, “If you continue to be a good boy then I'll reward you. If you don't, though, I'll have to punish you. Do you understand?”

Dipper nodded again.

The hand pulled away, the warmth of it leaving, and the boy found himself missing it's presence. He whimpered lightly, blinking a few times, one again with ears perked, anticipating something else to happen.

“Now, I think there's something we need to discuss, yes?”

_Discuss._

The word alone was enough to make Dipper cry out again, more of the liquid seeping into his mouth. He gagged again. It tasted horrible.

“Swallow.”

He did.

It didn't slide down his throat just right, making him cough, his chest beginning to heave with the effort it was taking to breathe. He let out long, forced breaths through his nose, the smell of the appendage around his mouth making him wrinkle it on disgust.

The hand returned again, this time lightly stroking his hair, and he absently leaned into the touch, his muscles starting to relax since for the first time since he'd gotten here. It lightly scratched his scalp, sending pleasurable shivers down his spine, and he moaned lightly.

There was a chuckle, the hand still petting. “It's okay. You don't have to be scared around me. I'm only here to help you.”

 _Help?_ How was this- _any_ of this- _helping_ him? And how was he supposed to not be scared of this person, if this even was a person? It...it was the most terrible thing he ever experienced, and he wanted it to go away. Not for the first time he wished he could see so he knew what was going o-

“ _AH!_ ” He screamed, his voice muffled, when the hand moved down and began to flick at one of his pink nubs. Without any thought he arched his back so he could meet the touch, moaning again, this time not so softly, his pants suddenly feeling much tighter than they had been before. _Oh. Oh, God…_

“You think too much." said the voice, squeezing his nipple now. It hurt so much...but it felt so _fucking good._ Another chuckle. “If you like that, there's so much more I could do. I can make you feel _so_ good, I promise. And you'll love every moment of it.”

That sounded amazing…

The small hand snaked its way into Dipper's hair once again, yanking his head upwards, roughly, and the voice began to speak again, this time right in his ear; “I can give you whatever you want, kid. I can make your novel become the greatest bestseller ever.”

Dipper was about to ask how it knew about that when it squeezed tighter on his hair, continuing, “I can make everyone love you once again.”

Now that, _that_ sounding promising. Spending time with Mabel again, family nights, everything...Oh, God, that sounded like the greatest thing ever.

“I can give you your sight back.”

_My sig-_

He couldn't finish his thought, however, before his pants were tugged down quite suddenly, leaving him in his boxers. He let out another cry, this one of protest, causing the appendage to squeeze so tight that it was now difficult for him to breathe out of his nose as well.

The voice grew darker now, adding, “All you have to do is agree to be mine.”

_Yours._

Dipper's boxers were now sliding down his legs, leaving him and hitting the floor. He was completely exposed, his arousal now very visible, and now the hand was touching his stomach, sending electricity buzzing throughout his entire being, and it began to go lower as it had done before.

It gripped his arousal, and another hand joined it, beginning to stroke it lightly. Dipper cried out again at this, once again arching to meet the touch, the words _Please_ and _Stop_ still buried beneath what was holding him down.

One of the hands brushed over the tip and he gasped, eyes fluttering, wanting to pull away but not having the strength to. If he did he knew that the voice, or whatever owned it, would do something terrible to him. And he really didn't want to get it into a bad mood.

“It's okay. You're doing great.” was the praise that hit Dipper's ears, making his face warm to the tips of his ears, and he now relaxed completely, allowing the hands to stroke him as they pleased. Every touch, every movement, was fire, and now that he was into it, he didn't want it to stop.

Then the hands pulled away. Another finger snap and the appendage around his mouth was removed, allowing him to breathe, and he gasped for air, taking deep, loud breaths, his chest heaving. His lungs were burning at this point, but that was nothing compared to the discomfort that was now haunting him between his legs. He leaned forward, his lips parted slightly, eyes closed, and he whispered, in the softest of voices, “Please...don't stop.”

“I won't.”

Before he could ask what this meant another appendage was suddenly on his leg, cold slime beginning to run down onto the ground, and it began to move up, slowly. Dipper knew what was going to happen and braced himself, allowing his body to go limp.

It was probing his enterence now and, oh boy, wow, _god._ It pushed into him, the feel of it inside him making a new wave of shivers run up his spine, both with fear and pleasure, and it hit a certain spot, making his scream out, so loud that his lungs were starting to ache all over again.

It pulled out. Then pushed in again.

And again.

And again.

And again and again and again.

Once it began to pick up a pace it no longer hurt as much, and Dipper was leaning backwards into it, moaning each and every time it hit his prostate. He was so close now, oh god, he just wanted to-

It pulled out. And it didn't go back in.

Dipper shifted, letting out a strangled, “Why?” _Why did you stop. I-I'm so close. Please...please just let me come._

The voice asked, lightly, “So what do you say? Do you agree to be mine?” He didn't know he was going to have to make a choice so fast- “Remember, I can give you whatever you please. We can do _this_ again, as many times as you want, and I came make all of your dreams come true. No one will ever judge you again, because you'll suddenly be so much more than them.”

Would he really? “You won't need them anymore, because you'll have me. You'll have _everything._ You'll be a _god,_ kid, you'll have everything you've always wanted, you can get revenge on all those that have wronged you. Just call me Master.”

“Master.” Dipper whispered, without any thought, and suddenly the appendage was thrusting into him again.

“Good." the voice replied, one of the hands ruffling his hair again, “Good boy. Now come for me.”

He did.


End file.
